Date: Mon, 01 Nov 1999 19:21:50 -0500
From: Charlie
Subject: Andy 16 (Young-Friends)
XVI Charlie's Fight Continues
Andy barely heard or saw anything at school, thinking of Charlie in the
hospital, again being pumped full of the poison they called therapy. He'd
been allowed to take the truck and was planning on leaving immediately
for the hospital after class, but Dennis had called to tell him he was needed
at the farm. He said Charlie was fine, and that he'd been told Andy
wouldn't be in and why and had understood. So it wasn't until Tuesday
afternoon that he got to the hospital. What he found there he simply wasn't
prepared for.
Charlie wasn't in his bed in the Children's ward, he was back in ICU. Just
a precaution, they told Andy, but he knew better. Charlie was asleep, but
the ashen look on his face was the look of death itself. The monitors
beeped and the displays showed a steady, if slow, heartbeat. If it hadn't
been for those monitors, Andy would've been sure Charlie was dead!
"Hi, bro!" a sleepy voice said around 7 pm. Andy had finished his
homework and was dozing when Charlie woke up. "How long you been
here?"
"Since about three. How ya feeling?"
"Like a truck ran over me. Doc says I should feel better tomorrow though.
I sure hope so, it's boring in this ICU!"
"Stay here Charlie! Please?"
"Why?"
"Cause I'm worried about you, ok? I can't stay here all day every day an'
if you're back there in the ward something could happen and no one would
know. Promise me you won't nag to get outa here!"
"Ok, I promise. But if it's their idea to move me back I ain't gonna say
no."
* * *
"You can't stop performing!" Karen said to Adrian. He had just informed
Karen that the gospel group had decided to take a sabbatical until Charlie
was well enough to perform. It was two weeks later, and Charlie was still
in hospital and showing no signs of improving enough to go home. The
most disturbing part of it was that he really didn't mind; he was so sick he
had no energy to move, let alone go home and try to resume some sort of
normal life.
"We have to!" Adrian answered, "Without Charlie, and with you at the
hospital all the time, we never know if we're gonna have a tenor or pianist
or not."
"Can't you get someone else temporarily?"
"We discussed that, and we decided we don't want anyone else. And we
want Charlie to know that. We want him to know that he IS the group!"
"If Charlie knew we were quitting because of him, he'd be devastated! I
understand where you're coming from, but you are NOT gonna tell
Charlie!"
Christmas was approaching, and with it all the signs of winter in North
Carolina. The harvesting had been done with Andy doing most of the work
Charlie had always done. He was proud of himself, but at the same time
he'd rather have had his young boss telling him what to do, teaching him
what he now had to learn for himself. Dennis had taken a leave of absence
from his job, so the two of them worked side by side, taking time off to
visit the hospital whenever they could.
"One thing I don't understand," Andy said one evening in the barn, "How
come he's so sick? I mean, I understand that chemo makes people sick, but
he is SO sick! That can't be good for him! Why can't they ease off on the
treatments till he gains back some of his strength?"
"I'm not sure I understand either." Dennis answered, "But I've heard that
when you do surgery on a cancer patient, it sometimes helps the cancer to
spread more quickly and it goes like wildfire. Maybe that's what they're
afraid of and the only way they can combat it is to keep up the treatments."
"Maybe." Andy said doubtfully, "But I don't know how he can fight
anything as sick and weak as he is."
Charlie's stay in the hospital had not been anything like he'd imagined. He
had pictured himself in the kids' ward, singing for the other patients and
generally raising their spirits, even perhaps having the whole quartet and
band perform from time to time. He had pictured himself something of a
hero, performing and "rising above" his own problems to cheer up those
around him. Instead, he was flat on his back, oblivious to the various other
performers, clowns and things, who did visit the ward. His hair had fallen
out, quite suddenly and completely. It seemed to him that he didn't have a
hair on his body. But as Christmas approached, the Conner family were
making plans for Charlie to come home, at least for a few days.
"Mrs. Conner," Dr. Fisher protested, "We can't cut back on Charlie's
treatment! He's just beginning to tolerate it a little better, and if we pause
now it could set him back weeks!"
"I don't see how you can say he's tolerating it better," Karen countered,
"He's slipping in and out of consciousness, sick all the time, and so weak
he can hardly hold his head up!"
"That's to be expected. What we're putting in his system is a form of
poison. It kills the cancer cells but it also causes a great deal of trauma to
the rest of his body too. You have to think of it as an investment: an
investment in the rest of his life."
"Well if his life doesn't improve soon, I don't think he'll want what's left,
and frankly I don't want him to live like this. We are going to take him
home for Christmas, whether you agree or not!"
Charlie did go home for Christmas. In response to Karen's wishes he was
taken off the chemo drip on December 20; by the 24th he was feeling much
better. It wasn't the old Charlie, but he was cheerful and able to stay out of
bed for three and four hours at a time. His hair was gone, making him look
totally different; he hadn't sung a note for weeks and had no inclination to.
He just wanted to be home; to hold his mother, his father, Andy; he just
wanted to roam around the farm with Andy driving the old truck. He
didn't feel much emotion, nor did he show any. He just looked. At the
stubble that had been the crops he'd planted; at the irrigation system he'd
designed and built; at the ancient tractors he and his father had restored
and kept running. Every aspect of the beloved farm came under his
scrutiny, and what he saw, what he thought, stayed in his head.
Andy seemed to sense that conversation wasn't appropriate as he drove
them around the farm, so they drove in silence, each with his own
thoughts. Andy wondered if Charlie was regarding this as one last look.
He made an occasional comment that Andy had really done a good job
with the combine, or that this field or that would have to be plowed in the
spring, or that they a certain field would have to be planted in potatoes
next year because it had been growing soy beans for the past two years.
But every comment was generic. Not once did he say "I need to this" or
"I'll have to do that." Not once!
"Andy..." Charlie said softly, "You awake?"
"Yeah Charlie. You ok?"
"No dude. I want you to hold me."
"But Charlie, I thought you'd be more comfortable if I slept in my own
bed."
'You been doin' that for a week now. This is my last night home and I
want you close to me. Please?"
"Ok, if that's what you want."
"Andy?"
"Yeah bud?"
"I want more than you holding me... I want..."
"Charlie, you feel up to it?"
"Yeah, Andy. An' I might never get another chance."
Charlie's last remark did little to raise his sexual desire. But he knew that
if Charlie was beginning to think he was dying, he needed all the assurance
he could get. Andy couldn't argue that he'd be fine, because he was
beginning to have doubts himself. So somewhere within him he found the
wherewithal to accommodate Charlie's wishes. It was slow and ever so
gentle, but both boys had never experienced anything so sweet!
* * *
"Please, Mom!" Charlie begged, "Please don't make me go back! Please!"
It was December 27, the Conner family had had a good Christmas holiday,
all together again, but it was time for Charlie to go back to the hospital.
Charlie was bordering on hysteria at the thoughts of the torture he'd
endured for the past three months. Andy was crying softly, knowing what
Charlie was facing. He wanted to take Charlie's part, to convince their
parents that the hospital was slowly killing his brother, but he knew they
would not back down. So he held Charlie to himself passionately, without
shame, right there in the Conner kitchen. "I'll come with you, Charlie." he
whispered, "An' I won't leave you till I'm sure you're ok." So Charlie
finally agreed and got in the back seat of the Conner car, with the
provision that Andy hold him during the drive.
Andy had a few days until school started, and he spent the entire time with
Charlie in the hospital. Charlie had again reacted to the medication and
was unconscious most of the time, but Andy stayed anyway. He talked to
the lifeless form on the bed, describing what was happening on the TV,
talking endlessly of what had gone on at the farm during the fall, anything
to make Charlie know he was still there.
Members of the gospel quartet and band visited regularly, but none got
quite the reaction from Charlie as when Wade, the bass, came. When he
entered the room, when he first spoke with that deep bass voice of his,
Charlie came to life, put a smile on his face, and talked cheerfully to his
friend. He loved this man, though their relationship had never been more
than partners in a singing group. No one could understand it, and it really
didn't matter; but everyone was thankful for it.
Andy went reluctantly back to school. The finalization of his adoption had
still not come through, and Dennis insisted that he continue school as if
nothing was wrong. He didn't want anything to stand in the way of that
adoption. Andy cooperated as he'd done with everything since he'd come
into the lives of this family; but there was an inner turmoil that he had to
settle, and it had to be done soon! There was so much turmoil already in
Dennis and Karen's lives, but this simply couldn't wait.
"Mom, Dad," Andy said one night in mid January as they began the long
drive home from the hospital, "Can we talk?"
"Certainly, Andy." Karen answered, "It'll be good not to sit here staring at
the road ahead for two hours. What's on your mind?"
"Well," Andy said as he fought to keep control of his voice, "I'm not
gonna leave y'all long as you need me, but I think we should call off the
adoption."
"Call it off?" Dennis said with surprise, "But why? Aren't you happy with
us?"
"Oh yes! I'm happier than I've ever been in my life!"
"Then why? What have we done?"
"Nothing, Mom. You've been so good to me! And I've repaid you with...
with..." Andy couldn't finish. He began to cry.
"You've repaid us" Dennis finished for him, "with faithfulness, hard work,
dedication, and a lot of support in a very difficult time. I suspect if anyone
owes anyone in this association, it's..."
"Dad, please!" Andy broke in, "You don't know all there is to know."
"Try us!" Karen challenged.
"Ok, but this is probably gonna hurt. I'm sorry, but I've been doing a lot of
thinking, and I think I'm gay."
"We've known that for quite some time."
"But there's more. I think... no, I KNOW! Mom, Dad, I'm in love with
Charlie."
"We all love Charlie. And soon he's..."
"Please, Mom, don't try that on me. I know we have to be positive around
him and talk about when he gets better. I know that, but... well, I just don't
think he's gonna get better. He's getting worse all the time. And if he
dies..."
"If he dies," Dennis added, "Then we need our other son all the more. Not
to do chores and run the farm, but to be our son! To love and be loved!"
"But I thought... I mean... Charlie always..."
"Andy!" Karen suddenly erupted, "I can't believe what I think you're
saying! Do you honestly believe we're adopting you only for Charlie? As
if you're his latest plaything? A new toy for our little boy? Is that what you
think?"
"You make it sound... well, cheap! But..."
"It IS cheap, Andy! And it's also ridiculous! I am deeply hurt that you
could think such a thing of us! Adopting a child, even one as grown up as
you, goes far deeper than buying a toy for a child! We're really pleased
that you and Charlie get along so well, but that's only one of many
considerations. I'll be the first to admit that if you were not getting along
with Charlie, we'd have gone no further. But you did! You've fit in with
our family! You're a fine boy, a hard worker, and a dedicated son! We
want you to be our son because of your qualities, Andy! And we love
you!"
"But..." Andy argued, "What I've done to Charlie..."
"You haven't done anything to Charlie that someone sooner or later
wouldn't have done. And you did it out of love! We can't ask for more
than that."
"But... I mean... even the last night he was home, I... we..."
"We know, Andy. You think we're blind? We saw the look in your eyes,
and in Charlie's too! You and he made love."
"You... you knew?"
"Of course we knew! What kinda parents would we be if we didn't know
what our sons were up to?"
"And you're not mad?"
"Why would we be mad? Charlie has few positive experiences these days,
but you are certainly one of them. He adores you, Andy! And so do we! I'll
not lie and tell you I love the thoughts of you two doing... whatever you
do, but it gives you both pleasure, it's not hurting anyone, so what's the
harm?"
"Well, to be honest... I've been sorta wondering if maybe... I mean, what
we did... could it be God punishing Charlie?"
"No, Andy! Karen said as she hugged him, "God is not punishing him, or
you, or us! God simply doesn't work that way! If you're right that you are
gay, then what you've done is pretty normal behavior I'd say. And if you
are gay, I suspect God knew it long before you did."
Andy was totally blown away! Could it possibly be true that he'd landed in
a family, his dream family, and they'd accepted him as he is, and had
known for some time, even though he hadn't admitted it even to himself?
Could this really be the end of his quest? Did he finally have a family?
And more important, could they all survive the loss of Charlie? Because
right now it certainly looked as though that's what they were facing. And
Mom and Dad... Damn that sounded good!... Mom and Dad were looking
to him! Andy! For support!
"There's one more thing we need to know, Andy." Karen continued, "Is
your attraction to our family strictly Charlie? I mean, God forbid, if he
doesn't get well..."
"NO!!!!!" Andy exclaimed, "I love y'all! I just can't believe that you love
me, after all I've done!"
"What you've done or haven't done has nothing to do with it. We love
YOU, Andy! YOU! That doesn't mean that everything you do is gonna
please us. It doesn't mean that we're never gonna give you hell, or that
everything you do is always gonna be great with us. True love involves
chastisement, criticism when it's needed, correction, and... and telling it
like it is."
"I... uh... I get the idea that there's something you're gonna 'tell it like it is'
right now."
"Yes, there is, Andy.
"The truth is," Karen continued as Andy braced himself, "And call this a
mother's intuition if you like, but I feel quite strongly about this. I don't
think Charlie is gay. I think right now he's infatuated by you, and there's
no doubt that he loves you. But I think eventually he'll discover girls, and
then I don't know..."
"It's ok." Andy replied, "I hope you're right. In the short time I've realized
that I am gay, I've also realized that it's not gonna be an easy life. I love
Charlie enough to give him up to some pretty girl. And he's gonna be
needing some sperm later on, and I happen to know where he can get
some. But being his brother, your son, is more than I ever dreamed would
happen. And it's enough."
In early February, Andy got out of school early and drove directly to the
hospital. Charlie had been in ICU for so long now no one thought he'd
ever get out, until either the treatments were done or he was in a box. But
Andy still visited whenever he could. On this particular day, as he signed
in at the nurses' station, he heard a high soprano voice coming down the
hallway. He knew instantly whose voice it was. It was high and clear,
strong and loud. But the words it was singing told a story that made
Andy's blood freeze in his veins:
I've sung my songs from Maine to California...
Seen the world from the window of a car...
I never saved a dime back when I had it...
I always thought some day I'd be a star.
But now my voice is cracked and no one wants me...
My wife gave up on me years ago...
It's been so long my kids don't even know me...
And pick and sing is the only life I know.
I wonder if God likes country music
Will there be a place up there to sing my song
Will he make my fingers nimble like they used to be
So I can pick my chords and sing along
"What on earth!" Andy said involuntarily....
"It's your brother!" the nurse smiled, "He's been singing all afternoon. He
started playing that new CD he got for Christmas, and he's been singing
along. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Not when you consider what he's singing." Andy answered. As he made
his way down the hall, he heard a familiar song he'd heard when Charlie
was on the stage:
Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul....
And then he heard one he'd never heard before:
God put a song in the voice of an angel
And softly she sang it to me...
Then he recognized it. It was a Bill Anderson CD, one of the few things
that Charlie had requested for Christmas! And of course the song was...
"Momma Sang a Song!" And Charlie was singing along with it! When he
entered Charlie's room, Charlie was lying on the bed, that same ashen
color on his face, his earphones on, tears streaming down his face, singing
along as Bill Anderson poured out his heart on the CD. His fingers were
dancing on the bed in front of him, as if playing an unseen piano. He
somehow sensed Andy's presence and opened his eyes, and smiled.
"We got a hell of a mom!" Charlie said almost in a whisper. "You know
she taught me to sing? I bet she can teach you too!"
"I'm sure she can, lil bro!" Andy replied, fighting to keep the tears back.
"You gotta ask her, Andy!" Charlie said, now getting rather agitated, "You
got to!"
"I will," Andy promised, "But frankly, I'd rather you teach me."
"That just might not happen, Andy. That's why you GOT to ask Mom!"
"I will, Charlie. I'll never be as good as you, but I'll learn. Then we can
sing duets."
Charlie didn't answer. He had slipped off again into unconsciousness, or
sleep, or wherever he went at times like this. But Andy knew he was
nearing the end. So he knelt by the bed. First he cried, then he prayed, then
he cried again. Then he got up, kissed Charlie, and settled in the chair by
the bed for the night.
By mid March nothing had changed, except that Andy had given up on the
school year. His adoption had been finalized, his new birth certificate had
been issued. He was now Andrew Kevin Conner. He could not have been
more proud if it had said President of the United States. He had asked
Dennis what had to happen now to have the whole thing undone, to which
Dennis had assured him that nothing but a long legal process could undo
the adoption. "Your prior documents, your previous birth certificate, are
all sealed and it would take a court order to unseal them. You're our son
now Andy, like it or not!" At that point Andy had announced that he
wasn't going back to school, that he would maintain a vigil at Charlie's
side until the issue was resolved one way or the other.
* * *
If you wish to comment on this story, please send your comments to me at
charlieje@mindspring.com